Wolf, Run
by alwaysfanciful
Summary: After the events of the Darach and the Nemeton sacrifices, the pack of Beacon Hills is ready to return to normal. However, the arrival of a Wendigo shakes up the town again, throwing the normalcy back into chaos, creating new strife, and bringing unlikely allies. But is the Wendigo their only problem? (POST Season 3A, and entirely separate from 3B canon.)
1. Chapter 1

"Dad, are there things in the woods?"

The man sighed as he zipped up the tent flap, securing them inside. "Oh AJ, come on now. We've talked about this. Of course there are animals in the woods—it's nature. But we've closed the tent, so we're safe." Seeing his son's doubtful expression, he slid over to pat him on the shoulder. "Nothing can get us in here."

The little brown-haired boy twitched his nose, still a little unsure, but he replied, "Okay, dad."

Mr. Smith grinned and reached over to rummage through his backpack. He pulled out his laptop and a collection of four DVD's. "Alright, now how about you pick a movie, and we'll watch it until we go to bed? How does that sound?" he asked, gesturing to the assortment.

AJ smiled and nodded. After some serious deliberation he decided on _Scooby-Doo and the Zombie Island_, and the pair settled in to watch.

Sometime later, AJ's eyes were beginning to slip closed, and Mr. Smith was feeling an uncomfortable sensation in his bladder. Trying not to disturb the kid, he inched his way towards the front and carefully unzipped the fabric. He winced as the noise snapped AJ awake, and the boy muttered, "Dad where are you going?"

"I just have to go to the bathroom," he told his son, continuing to unzip.

"But you're going to let the animals in!" AJ protested.

Mr. Smith chuckled. "I think we're going to be okay. It'll only take a minute. Keep watching the movie."

AJ frowned, but he continued to keep his eyes on the glowing screen. His dad left the tent and walked towards the fire pit. His fingers were fumbling for his zipper when he heard it, just for an instant.

It was a strange growling—not quite animal, but not quite human.

He shook his head, figuring AJ's fears were finally getting to him.

No. There it was again.

Mr. Smith whipped around, peering intently into the darkness. But it was no use; he couldn't see a thing in the inky blackness.

And that's why he never saw it coming when the claws sliced through his chest. As the pain flooded through his body and he fell to his knees, he heard AJ scream.

* * *

"So how does it feel?"

Scott's excited voice and the pressure of his hand slapping down onto on his shoulder jerked Stiles from his thoughts. He leaned his head back over his chair to turn his brown eyes to the familiar face of his best friend. "What was that, man?" he asked, scrunching up his face as he stretched his arms out behind him.

"I said, how does it feel?" Scott repeated as he rolled his eyes. He plopped down in the chair next to Stiles, dropping his backpack to the floor.

Stiles gave him a weird look. "Scott, what are you talking about?"

Scott sighed and said pointedly, "How does it feel to be normal again?" At Stiles' understanding nod, he continued, "All the Alpha stuff is over, and we saved the day again!"

Stiles scratched his head absently and agreed, looking blankly around at the high school kids seated in the classroom. Of course they weren't paying attention to Scott and Stiles; they were absorbed in their own conversations, and their own pleasant, completely human realities. "Yeah, we were heroes alright," Stiles sighed. A little to himself, he added under his breath, "I just wish more people knew that."

Scott wasn't looking at Stiles anymore though, as Allison had just entered the classroom arm in arm with Lydia Martin, whose beautiful red hair managed to shine despite the clouds outside. Allison saw Scott and waved quickly, tugging Lydia over to the seats in front of the two boys.

Lydia's scar was still there. Fading, yes, but still there. She refused to cover it, and she wore it as a trophy. Something was just different about her now. She seemed…stronger. More radiant, if that was possible. A survivor.

The girls sit down, and Scott and Allison share an odd look. Stiles just tips his head back and shuts his eyes again, inwardly groaning. He's sure that those two will be the death of him.

Stiles allows himself to tune out the sounds of the classroom again, effectively zoning out. He knew he should be glad that it was all over, and he was, truly. The encounter with the Nemeton and Ms. Blake, a.k.a. The evil Darach, had left him scarred and shocked. But even though things had calmed down in the past weeks since the night of the lunar eclipse, Stiles wasn't calm. He was always a little on edge nowadays, as Deaton's warning had never left his mind.

Whatever those side effects were, Stiles knew they couldn't be good. It was just by the grace of some celestial being out there that they hadn't seemed to have shown themselves yet.

And then there was Derek. He'd taken off with Cora—and maybe Peter, since no one had seen or heard from him in weeks—and he'd had no contact with anyone from the pack. Stiles wasn't worried, per say, but he did think it would just _feel _safer for everyone if he would just come back already.

Despite what Scott may say, Stiles knew nothing was truly back to normal.

Later, after class he followed Scott to his locker, and he voiced something that had been bothering him. "Hey, so you know how my dad's been freaking out over his work lately?"

Scott huffed as he slammed his locker shut. "Yeah, man. What's up with that?"

"I think now that he finally gets that there's something else out there he's become—like—obsessed with going through his old cases to try and find connections to the supernatural."

"That doesn't sound healthy," Scott pointed out.

"Dude, don't I know it. And now he even cancelled our annual camping trip. I mean, come on! That's just unacceptable."

Isaac appeared on the other side of Scott, and Stiles sighed. Scott nodded at the taller boy.

"Have you guys heard from Derek at all?" Isaac blurted out, not caring that Stiles had had his mouth open and was prepared to speak.

Stiles just rolled his eyes and snapped, "Chill, scarf man. He's a grown up. He can take care of himself."

Scott shot him a look and turned towards the curly haired boy. "I'm sure Derek's fine. He probably just needed a break." With another pointed look in his sarcastic friend's direction, he continued, "We could all probably use a break, honestly."

Isaac grinned easily and nodded. "I agree." To Stiles, he added, "Hey, I hope your dad gets over this thing soon."

Stiles sighed. "Stupid werewolf hearing." But he grinned a little, his earlier annoyance fading away. "Seriously, thanks. Seeing him stressed makes me stressed, you know?"

Isaac grimaced in some sort of understanding and went on his way, but Scott lingered behind. He gave him an understanding look and clapped his hand on Stiles' shoulder. "It's going to be okay, Stiles. He's going to be fine."

Stiles sighed. "Yeah, I know. Thanks Scott."

But even as his friends' backs retreated down the hall towards their next class, Stiles had the strange and unnerving feeling that maybe it wasn't his dad he should be worried for.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi guys! The end of this chapter is a little racy, so if any of you guys think that I should change the rating, please let me know! I'm super new to all of this. I also really want a beta, but I don't know how to go about finding one...so if you could help I'd send you infinite love! 3**

"Hey Scott?"

Scott groaned. "Yes Isaac?"

"So, I just thought I should let you know…"

"_What_ Isaac?" Scott turned around to see a clearly uncomfortable Isaac leaning against the doorway.

He wrung his hands as he admitted in a rush, "I'm going to dinner with Allison tonight."

Scott froze. _No, Scott. Don't even think about it. _Forcing down the rising jealousy in his throat, Scott managed to nod. "That's—that's great Isaac. Good luck."

Isaac rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and avoided his friend's gaze. "Yeah. Um, listen I know you—"

"Can't we just end this with 'good luck'?" Scott snapped, turning back to folding the clean laundry on his bed.

"Oh. Okay," Isaac mumbled. There was a moment of hesitation, of unsure silence, before he retreated.

Farther back in the house, Scott heard the guest room door close, and he let out the breath he'd been holding. A breath full of hateful envy, and he knew the cure. He picked up his phone. "Hey Stiles. I'm coming over."

The boy on the other end barely had time to choke out, "Oh, okay!" before Scott had hung up. He snatched up his jacket and stomped out the door, yelling to his mom, "I'll be at Stiles'!" The minute his feet hit the pavement, he began to run, not towards the Stilinski house but towards the woods. When he was surrounded by the foliage he let himself lose control. The anchor that he had held onto for so long was finally gone. Fractured. Broken.

Scott let his walls crumble, and the familiar tugging in his gums and on his ears felt like a release. He growled and shot forward, speed renewed. Leaping across logs and rocks, he reached the top of the hill and let out a howl. This wasn't an alpha howl, it was a sound marred with pain and heartache. His head dropped to his chest, and Scott tried to make himself calm down as the claws retracted.

"Get a grip, Scott," he muttered under his breath. "You can do this."

Right before he returned to himself he thought he caught a whisper of a scent on the breeze. Blood.

But just as quick as it came, it was gone, and Scott shook his head—assuring himself he'd just imagined it. He just needed some time to calm down.

Scott rolled his shoulders, shaking it off, and began to pick his way back down the rocks. It was twenty minutes later when he finally ended up at Stiles' red door. He raised his hand to knock, but the door swung inward before his fist even made contact.

"Man, how long has it been since we had some quality bro time?" Stiles asked excitedly. His hair was a little damp and scruffy, and his dark eyes shone.

Scott chuckled. "Too long."

Stiles agreed and started towards the living room, leaving Scott to close the door behind him. "Lock up too while you're at it," he called. Scott slipped off his shoes and clicked the lock before joining his best friend in the living room.

Stiles was already sprawled haphazardly on the couch with an Xbox remote in his hand. He tossed another one to Scott without looking. Thanks to his reflexes Scott managed to nab it out of the air before it fell to the floor. Aiming had never been Stiles' strong suit.

The Xbox was powered up and ready—Halo 4's startup screen flashing at them from the television. "So," Stiles began, jabbing the back of his friend's head playfully with his sock-covered foot as Scott settled into the beanbag chair in front of the coffee table, "What's the reason for Operation Stiles Time tonight?"

Scott leaned back to stick his tongue threateningly towards Stiles' foot until it retreated, accompanied by a gross look from Stiles. "Why does there have to be a reason? Maybe I just want to see my best friend."

Not wanting his foot to get licked, Stiles chucked a pillow at his head this time, hitting the black mess with a dull thump. Scott huffed and grabbed the projectile and turned, preparing to launch it right back. He laughed at the way Stiles curled up, raising his arms to protect himself.

"Hey not the face, not the face!" Stiles cried, "This thing's my moneymaker!"

Scott snorted and tossed the pillow at his stomach instead. Stiles let out an exaggerated moan upon impact, and his arms flopped dramatically against the back of the couch as he howled, "Oh the _pain_! Death is upon me!"

Scott rolled his eyes and slumped back into his chair and turned back to the Xbox, pressing A to rejoin their campaign. Stiles perked up at the familiar music, and he repeated his earlier question in a much more serious voice. "Come on man, you can tell me. What happened?"

Scott was grateful for the distraction the game provided. It gave him something else to focus on while he told Stiles the truth. "Isaac's going out with Allison tonight."

Stiles cringed, but he didn't reply. At that, Scott turned around again, this time an accusatory glare on his face. "You knew, didn't you?" he groaned.

Stiles slid his tongue along his top teeth and grimaced. "I mean she might have told Lydia…who told me."

Scott grunted in exasperation and slid back into the plush fabric. "I can't believe it."

"Oh don't be like that. Listen, if you need a—I don't know—rebound or something, I mean I know Lydia's—" Stiles muttered.

"Nah man," Scott interrupted. He knew how hard it was for Stiles to bring up Lydia like that for Scott. "Anyways, I think Lydia's a little occupied."

* * *

Lydia _was _a little occupied.

She bounced lightly on the comforter as the muscular boy tossed her down. She draped her body over the bed and turned her lust-filled gaze onto him.

Aiden's hands slipped under her floral skirt, sliding deftly up her lily white skin. She let out a hiss at the chill of his fingers, but she spread her thighs anyways, hooking her legs behind his knees, pulling his body closer until he gave in and leapt onto the bed. He straddled her and skimmed his hands up her arms. He circled his fingers around her wrists and pulled up her arms above her head, pinning them by the pillows under one hand as the other one made quick work of the row of buttons stretching down her white blouse.

"_Aiden_."

The name fell from her lips. He threw back his head at the sound—the unabashed lust coloring her tone red—and she arched her body up against him. Their now-bare skin pressed together, and he moved his hand behind her, pulling her up to kiss her hard on the mouth, breath mingling and tongues meshing.

Yes, Lydia was busy to say the least.


End file.
